


Princex Dior Galanodel

by hyperionnebulae



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Bullying, F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Mental Breakdown, Miscarriage, Multi, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 20:27:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17967497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyperionnebulae/pseuds/hyperionnebulae
Summary: Some collected short pieces I wrote on a warlock oc.





	1. Chapter 1

_There once was a young scholar who asked the elven Lord Galanodel to make use of his vast library. The Lord agreed in secret to allow the human to study there under two conditions. One, that he speak to no one and two, that he was to let Galanodel in on his future discoveries. The scholar agreed, for this was the chance of a lifetime, and thus the High Moon Elves of Galanodel and the human by name of Armand Whitterackin became partners in a sense. Everything worked out harmoniously for a number of years; Armand would sneak into the fortress by way of a secret passage the lord have shown him and he went unnoticed. However, one night the young man caught the eye of the heir, a young maiden to whom he fell instantly in love with. She was already wed but she also took a fancy to the mysterious man. Errielle started visiting the library at odd hours hoping to catch him off guard. Her plan being successful she bedded him and bore his child._

_Even though Dior was clearly the child of Errielle, having the white hair and green eyes of a moon elf, they clearly were not the offspring of her husband, Theren. Although Theren did not hold any great disdain for Errielle’s choice of a lover, the difference in treatment was clearly felt by Dior. The young half-elf never met their father and their mother was distant. None of the other children had time for games and Dior felt very alone._

_Around the age of 12, Dior set to work going through their father’s research which their grandfather showed them before he had passed. Lord Galanodel had a soft spot for the child and gave into the request to learn more about their father. Sadly, there was nothing left of the man, after the Lord had ordered him to leave those years ago, aside from the detailed weekly reports. Armand was doing research on the fey ancestry of elvenkind. Dior taught themself Sylvan in order to fully read the texts their father pulled source material from. They poured years into deciphering this data in hope that it may lead to a current location but was met with dead end, after end. If it weren’t for the constant attendants at the library these days, Dior would have burned the whole thing to the ground in frustration._

_There was one text that was particularly interesting to Dior, though. It was a story book that appeared to meant for young fey. It told stories of Nathair Sgiathach, the fey of mischief and pranks. The stories spoke of this fey skipping and laughing as he duped so many of his friends all in good fun. Dior felt happier just reading about these dubious schemes._

_Most elves, upon reaching adulthood, go through an intense form of magical training, for even the warriors can find ways to tap into their magical bloodlines. Being half human meant that Dior’s blood wasn’t as magical as their peers and they weren’t looking forward to these extensive tests. However, Dior got a potentially awful idea the night before the test. They gathered up materials and set up a circle near the library using the old storybook as a focus. Dior used this ritual to call to the fey dragon of mischief, to hear them and help them succeed in their endeavor for knowledge and friends. Dior called and Nathair listened and filled Dior with what they wanted in exchange for their servitude whenever he was in need of it. The fey ended the ritual for the half-elf saying, “It is about time that those elves learned what real power is; it’s been a long time since I’ve had a good long laugh. ”_


	2. Interlude: Unworthy

“- and Mom, Illuminara was being such bi-”

“I don’t ever want to hear you say that again.”

Dior’s mom somehow managed to do this thing where she didn’t have to raise her voice but still came across as yelling. The 12 year old sat there and grumbled and Errielle Galanodel sighed.

“Look, I know you are going through a difficult time in your life right now. I have read that when humans turn twelve it is an age of growth and bodily changes and the like. But, you are not in the world of humans right now; this is an elven city; there is a certain level of decorum that needs to be maintained. Things… cannot remain unaddressed.” Errielle was desperately attempting to express her feelings to the child but seemed to be talking herself in circles.

Dior looked up at her and responded. “I just… wanted to be friends… why does this have to be so hard? Everyone else just seems to fit and I’m… a mistake.”

Errielle held her breath for a second and then responded. “That is not true. You are very important to me for, in my thousand years of life, I have never loved anyone as I did your father. I see much of him in you.” She sighed. “And I see that as a good thing, my child. It means that you will be an explorer and knowledge seeker; it means that you will look to bridge the gaps between cultures and races; that you will leave this city and travel as I have not, as much of the children here have not. For although moon elves claim to be more traveled than many others, we are sadly lacking that in this city-”

“Mom, do you think I’ll ever find my magic? Maybe find someone to love me, like dad did you?”

Errielle glanced out the window and pondered. “I think… we will see. Now, you need to sleep.”

————————————————-

But Dior could not catch those sheep as hard as they tried and they suddenly heard muffled voices in the next room. They padded over and pushed their ear against the wall.

“- I don’t know how much longer they are going to be happy here, Gaeleath. Infant elves can be so petty and that’s what these other children are. And you know it’s their parents drivel coming out of their mouths. I wish I had known this would happen when I had a child with a hum-”

“And you wouldn’t have done it any differently, would you have, my lady?”

She sighed, “No, I suppose not. It’s just… I don’t know how to tell him… uh them that it is quite possible that no one here will ever see Dior as worthy of love, especially the ladies. I mean the males might someday go for it as a joke or for bragging rights but a woman… to have children with not a full elf… it’s… uncommon.” Her voice betrayed an unusual amount of emotion saying that; she must have gotten a lot of backlash during the original romance. Dior could feel tears coming to their eyes as well.

Their mother continued, “Gaeleath, I need you to talk to them about it; you are far better at reaching them and they listen to you. Plus, maybe you can talk some magic out of them; you know maybe that will help them feel more at home, seeing as infant elves can do minor pieces of arcane… and… if not, in a few years, maybe they should travel to a more accepting area of our world.” She definitely sounded sad at that. “I realize now that Galanodel may not be a good place for human children; I feel as if my late father secretly knew that all along.”

There was silence for a while and Dior was starting to slump against the wall. They made it over to the bed and passed out; there was lots to think about in the morning.


	3. Interlude: Like you’re running out of time

“… So you see the man clearly was interested. I’ve tried to make sense of his notes on the matter but… they are way beyond me. I know it’s in my blood but honestly the fae language is difficult to decipher, even your grandfather had trouble and he studied the language for hundreds of years; your father just had a knack I guess.”

Gaeleath wasn’t known for bestowing praise lightly and young Dior took great pride in the fact that he seemed impressed. The teenager looked back over at the stacks of papers and bound volumes wondering what sort of pieces of their father they might uncover in them. They sighed and their mother’s adviser patted them on the shoulder gently.

“You know you don’t have to prove anything right? You don’t have to measure up to your mother, father, or anyone else; you just have to be you.”

“I hear you; I just want to know more about who that is.”

“Fair enough. I’ll leave you to it then.”

Dior found a cypher mixed in with everything else and opened the first volume…

————————————————————–

They threw a book against the wall and screamed in frustration; it had been almost a year and Dior still only understood maybe every other word of what they were reading. Maybe. That wasn’t even including Armand’s analysis which tended to drift into unrelated topics like… modern fashion? Moss growth on trees? Shrine bell diameters? Dior’s father was either the world’s greatest genius or a lunatic. (Ah, I think that’s covered on page 562 somewhere…)

The kid sighed and sagged against the wall. They looked over to see the corner of a golden book peaking out from under a stack of papers. Dior would’ve sworn they hadn’t noticed it before. They reached out and pulled it towards them.

It was a small volume entitled “Me sileir!” (I’m having fun!). Huh… A strange title for a history book… They flip open the book to find it illustrated like infant stories found in some homes.

“Mel yal feli Nathair Sgiathach…” It read and went into detail on the fae’s adventures with the faerie courts. Dior was so entranced they didn’t even notice the sun go down until Theren tapped them on the shoulder.

“Dior, we request your presence for the twilight meal. Your mother and I have a lot of work to get to after and would rather not wait too long for you.”

Dior broke out of their reverie. “Oh, yeah alright, I’m coming.” They slipped the small gold book into their bag.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sylvan translation:  
> Mel yal feli Nathair Sgiathach- my name is Nathair Sgiathach


	4. Interlude: If it weren’t for those meddling kids

The Galanodel exams were notorious for running early; if any newcomers wanted to be evaluated with the regulars, they had best show up at least an hour before sign-up in order to be allowed to compete or display their skills. Experienced warriors and wizards were not required to sign in as their masters would often schedule viewings during the exam to show off their pupil’s progress. Dior and the other youngsters, who hadn’t the time or training to develop their abilities yet, were required to sign up with an available tester to see if they made the cut to start training with a professional.

Nobody expected Dior to show up; they hadn’t even been to watch since they were brought as a baby. Also, as a half-elf, the kid didn’t have magic laced into their DNA as the others did and without someone interested in teaching them, the city just kind of assumed Dior would find other, non-magical, uses for their time. However, Dior did make an appearance and stepped up to the booth a half an hour before sign-in.

“Dior Galanodel. I would like be tested in mental dexterity.” This was what one said in order to be signed up for an exam involving the Mage Hand cantrip spell. The exam consisted usually of two elves putting together a piece of machinery or playing a board game, but, with their minds.

The female elf looked down at the kid impassively. “I am sorry but all of those spots are fu-”

“As heir to the ruling household, I request a table with Amir Panotura. He can take his time preparing for it; I can wait all day.”

Dior didn’t say it angrily, they didn’t say it it forcefully or impatiently, but the elf’s eyes widened and there was fear there. Something about the kid told her that they wouldn’t tolerate any response short of her full cooperation. She stammered in response.

Their voice was cold in response to her inadequacy, “Is that too hard for you, _ai edainme_?”

The woman snapped to attention and replied, “No-oo, not a problem, _amin taren_. I’ll take care of it right away.”

As the woman tried to get the papers in order, Dior cracked a smile.

______________________________________

They had lost. Panotura had seemed impressed with their attention to detail but it didn’t change the fact that they had lost the game.

Crushed and humiliated, Dior wandered away from the testing area, replaying the game in their head and trying to figure out how it could’ve gone differently. There were so distracted they didn’t notice they were being followed until the larger child had made contact tackling Dior to the ground.

“What a _ujere er_ you are. Worth nothing, you can’t even pass the Nessa Edhel Test. All that nobility for nothing! How dare you think you are better than us and request THE master.”

That was followed by a swift kick to the ribs. There were four of them total: one to hold their prey, one to gloat, and two to beat down. Just Dior’s luck that they had wandered off into the woods out of town.

“ _Antolle ulua sulrim_.” Dior coughed out.

“Oh? You speak elvish but _Lle holma ve’ edan_!”

The kicks and punches filled Dior’s consciousness. All they could perceive was each individual muscle, tendon, or synapse screaming every time contact was made. Screaming and pleading for it to stop.

And then their head was filled with a new sound. A voice.

Their voice.

“ _KURUNI TENKELA!_ ”

A twig fell out of the young half elf’s pocket as a beam of blue energy lanced out of their fingertips. The gloating attacker was stunned mid laugh and thrown backwards into a tree. The other pursuers, after stopping briefly in shock, backed away from the source.

One of them whispered in shock, “How did they learn…” before running away with the other two conscious elves. Deldrach Yinlen lay in an unconscious heap.

Dior lay on the ground heavily breathing for a time. After mentally cataloging the bruises they had received, they righted themself and stared at their hands. Dior hadn’t thought that would work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvish Translations:  
> ai edainme- little woman  
> amin taren- my prince  
> ujere er- dull one  
> Antolle ulua sulrim- much wind pours from your mouth  
> Lle holma ve’ edan- you stink like a human  
> KURUNI TENKELA- witch spell/witches' bolt


	5. Moon take thy flight

Darius’s living quarters were what one would expect for a champion elven fencer, clean and yet, hectic. They had the appearance of calm, collected, and at ease, but really the man was a 250 year old obsessive compulsive perfectionist. The furniture may be just so but the mind behind their arrangement was constantly buzzing.

Dior didn’t particularly mind the view though, especially looking over the larger elf’s shoulders during an intimate embrace. He was as good of a lover as he was a fighter and seemed to treat every night together with them as a competition; Dior loved this game. True, there wasn’t much talk but that never seemed to dim the excitement or the closeness that was felt by either of them. Compared to the mundane of their day-to-day, the whole endeavor was pure bliss.

Dior woke up on the couch slowly, this morning. As expected, the remnants of the previous night had already been cleaned up. They sat there for a bit just soaking in the scene. The traces of the mingling scents still hung in the air. Dior breathed in deep and retrieved their belongings from a nearby chair; time to go about their own training, Darius had already left for his.

——————————-

As they made their way to the library, Dior absentmindedly recited the third and fourth conjugations of “to be” in Sylvan; no one ever seemed to notice as they did due the fact that very few elves took it upon themselves to learn the Fae language these days. Well, few elves consorted with a Fae on a somewhat daily basis, as Dior did.

They were reaching up to pull a familiar volume from a high shelf when a voice behind them said, <That one isn’t very thorough; you should try the one three books over.>

Dior spun around and lost their footing, falling backwards with a clang against the shelf. The young woman they saw must be the owner of the Sylvan words they had just heard.

<I… My apologies! Were you talking to me, my lady?> Dior desperately tried to regain their composure and seem as if they were unaffected by the girl’s charms but it did not seem to be convincing her.

A scowl looked good on her small, almost feline features, but not half as good as the laugh that broke out and lit up her light green eyes. <No, of course I am talking to the OTHER person who comes to borrow books about the Fae on a daily basis… of course I mean you, silly.>

The bell-like, chime of her laugh seemed to melt all of Dior’s anxiety away. <You’ve been watching me? Isn’t that a bit inappropriate for someone in your station…>

<What, now you are going to pull rank on me too? Oh, don’t you worry I’m well aware you are the crown prince…>

<Princex… and that’s not what I meant… I…> They couldn’t find the right words to express exactly what they wanted to say, in Sylvan, so they switched into the more comfortable common, “I mean that you are an obviously high learned elf to have mastered the Sylvan language like that. I am somewhat of a novice… I…”

“No, your accent is pristine and your grammar is close to perfect, I’m sure with time and a bit of help you could master it easily.” She handed them the suggested literature and smile. “Don’t take yourself too seriously, Dior.”

She went to turn away but Dior stopped her, _"I am at a loss, my lady, you have not given me a name by which I should refer to you…"_

_ "Elysia of Fobroache Court, it is my pleasure to make your acquaintance, your highness." _

——————————-

It would seem as if Dior’s days were henceforth split between two worlds from then on, the, what now seemed effortless, days perfecting the Sylvan language with Elysia and the smoky nights that were erased in the morning with Darius. Two worlds that didn’t mix, physical and mental, until one day they did.

Dior had taken to skipping back to Darius’s at night (I mean everyone already thought them strange so this was all but expected) and this particular night they weren’t paying attention where they were going. In wasn’t until they were already smacking face first into a solid chest that Dior realized Darius had come out to greet them.

_"In Mab’s name!"_   Slipped out before they could think better of it.

_ "Be careful how loud you say such things, you never know who might be one of her watchers." _

Dior peeled themself away from the body of the man they had spent so much time up against and stood there with their mouth hanging open in surprise. Sure his accent was terrible but there was no doubt what he had said.

Darius looked down at the smaller elf sheepishly, “I think I said that right… I met this girl from out of town who has been teaching me some. It helps me understand you when you sleep talk…”

“I… what?! Wait… you know Elysia too?”

“Of course. She is probably the most interesting and gorgeous young elf to come this way in a while. I would guess that every elf with a half a brain in the entire city has a thing for her… So… you got the hots for her then?”

“What! No… who even says it like that?! You can’t be serious, Darius! She wouldn’t be interested in me… bastard child remember?”

“Well, okay then… I just figured since you two have spent so much time together that… oh well, good, then maybe I have a shot.” The big man winked and Dior rolled their eyes.

“Not to be a diva or nothing…”

“Which you are…”

“Hey! I’m not! But just saying… if I couldn’t sway the pretty lady, what makes you think you’d be able to?”

“I convinced you didn’t I; are you saying that wasn’t luck?” Darius raised an eyebrow and Dior sighed.

“Okay, okay… but you might need some help with that accent…”

——————————-

For the next month or two Dior spent every day doing double sessions, mornings with Elysia and nights with Darius; the difference being that the night was less about working on their own fluency and more about working on Darius’s charm. The half elf was finding they were getting a lot less sleep and not due to sex. Every day they became more aware of the fact that they were losing both of them to each other; every day they fell more in love with both of them.

After three months of this, Dior found it hard to arrange time alone with either Darius or Elysia. By elven standards, they were both young and available and happy to be mingling. Dior didn’t begrudge them this and dived harder to studying the ancient lore and Fae culture. They began to learn more from their patron and their power keep increasing. The lull of time, which could mean days, before hearing from either of the two lovers was spent thrill seeking and pushing the boundaries of possibility. They started to lose even more touch with reality and, as such, retained a irregular sleep and waking schedule.

This made it hard for them to be present at important stately meetings and such that were required of a elf (or half elf) with their birthright. Papers and broken promises started to pile up. Somewhere in the mess was an unopened wedding invitation that led to an unattended ceremony in the traditional fashion. Dior realized as they ran into the wedding party on the outskirts of town that the pair were going to leave without saying goodbye to them.

The half elf approached the travelling carts and caught both of their eyes individually. Darius immediately looked away in shame. Elysia glared back. Neither of them stopped the carts or made any other gestures.

When they got back to their quarters and finally opened the invitation, Dior realized it asked them to make a toast and say a few words. Dior ripped it up, and flipped the table along with everything else they could in their room.

——————————-

They never came back and they didn’t write. A few years later, Dior received word that Elysia was expecting. Months later, it was reported as a miscarriage; sometimes it didn’t just didn’t work out well for young elves. Dior requested an audience to pay their respects and was denied.

Dior was devastated and stopped eating. They stopped sleeping. Within, a week or so, they stopped leaving the room and then the bed. It was as if this child, or would be child, represented a friendship that had also died before it had ever really come to life. How was it possible to be so close to a person or even two persons and yet so easy for them to just forget you… so easy for them to hate you…

Several palace servants and guards were turned away from Dior’s chambers; eventually, some of the higher-ups made pleas and even the queen tried once but to no avail. The half elf princex wished to left alone.

After a week of this, Dior started to hallucinate from the lack of nutrition. The voices were telling them that their patron was disappointed in the pathetic excuse of a disciple they had inherited. In fact, the voices told them that they were a disappointment to everyone.

_ Dior, you know that there is still a way to make it all right; you can still be somebody; you can still be remembered. _

_ Oh yeah? How? _

_ In death, Dior. You could die. _

_ I. Could. Die. _

——————————-

The top of the waterfall felt like ice on their bare feet. Dior hadn’t even bothered with shoes as they dragged their half functional limbs out the door in the moonlight. It was fitting in a way, their body shivering but shining because of the moon. Everyone with Moonelf blood could feel its pull on nights like these. It created a perfect silhouette of Dior’s body as they leaned over the edge and fell.

Air caught their shallow breath in their lungs. It caught it and held it. The waterfall was called Melar’s Halta for a good reason. It was a long drop and it was said in stories that the sky itself embraced those who jumped from the summit.

Time seemed to stop and Dior realized that it was all a lie. Dying wouldn’t solve their loneliness. Dying wouldn’t solve how much everything hurt. Sure it would make it stop but it would make every good thing they had done meaningless. It would mean they had given up; that life was too hard; that everyone who had given a hard time growing up had won.

Dior realized half way down the falls that they didn’t want to die.

The small, weak, and fragile half elf wrestled the wind to return their voice and with the last of their strength whispered, “Hith Vano.”

——————————-

For a second, Dior thought the spell had failed. They felt warm and figured, this, this must be death; this is the hell I’ve chosen for myself.

And then they realized the warmth was sobbing. The warmth was holding them. The warmth meant that they had lived.

Queen Errielle never cried; but she was. “Amin hiraetha… I am so sorry, my child… my… child.”

Dior had no strength the speak a reply and just sat there being held.

“I never thought it would come to this… losing you… even the thought of losing you would make me… it’s unforgivable… I… you know these falls have another name, a name not clothed in romantic myth and all… in my youth they were called ‘Rina amin’, ‘Remember Me’… Dior I will never be able to forget you… my child… my only child… by the only man I ever loved… and there is so much of him in you… so much good… I am so sorry I haven’t really told you until now…”

Their mother held them for hours and then decided that Galanodel was no longer safe for them anymore; they were not safe from themself as long as they remained here.

Dior somehow found the strength to say, “Sut ume lle sinta amin’d be sinome…?”

“Y’ atara sinta.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvish Translations:  
> Melar's Halta- Lovers' leap  
> Hith Vano- Misty Step  
> Amin hiraetha- I'm sorry  
> Sut ume lle sinta amin’d be sinome- How did you know I'd be here  
> Y’ atara sinta- A mother knows


End file.
